


Fault

by crochetaway



Series: Hermione's Haven Bingo 2020 [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 09:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25348624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crochetaway/pseuds/crochetaway
Summary: They had a routine down now. Wasn’t that just sick? A post-miscarriage routine. Nobody should ever have one of those.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle
Series: Hermione's Haven Bingo 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833604
Comments: 7
Kudos: 63
Collections: Hermione's Haven Bingo 2020





	Fault

**Author's Note:**

> **Created for Hermione's Haven Bingo 2020 Fest! This is for my B3 square which was the prompt: Thorfinn Rowle.**
> 
> **This is a story about a miscarriage. If that is a trigger for you, please use caution when reading.**
> 
> **No beta, just Grammarly. If you love this (or hate it) please let me know about in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

* * *

The familiar cramp in her side had Hermione gasping in pain. Not just physical pain, but emotional too. She tried to tough it out, to stay at work until she couldn’t take it anymore, but by lunchtime, she had filled three sanitary napkins. She was out of supplies and it was time to go home. Merlin, she hated having to go home with this news again.

Smiling through her pain, she told her boss she wasn’t feeling well and slowly made her way to the Floo fireplaces. She had owled Thorfinn earlier today. Just one word, he would know.

_Again._

He was home already when she arrived with tea made for her. He pulled her from the fireplace and settled her on the sofa, not speaking. They didn’t speak, not until she was ready.

It took a while for the tears to come. It had happened so often that she was almost numb to it. She wasn’t sure how many more of these she could suffer. It was bad enough, going through a miscarriage of a very wanted baby, but to do it over and over again. It was getting to be too much.

After her tea, Thorfinn led her upstairs to the bathroom and the bath he had already drawn. They had a routine down now. Wasn’t that just sick? A post-miscarriage routine. Nobody should ever have one of those, she thought.

She had cried a bit with her tea but was mostly looking forward to her bath. The warm water always helped ease the cramping in her abdomen. As much as she wanted to rant and rail against the world and what had been done to her in the war, she was just tired. So damned tired of it all.

The bath helped with the pain, at least. Once the water had gone cold, she climbed out and dressed in a comfortable pair of pajamas. Thorfinn had her potions and she took them mechanically. Then they retired to bed.

She buried her face into his chest as the real tears came. The great, breath-stealing sobs. She had been almost twelve weeks this time. She had been so cautiously optimistic and hopeful. Five was just too many. Five was more than any woman, any couple needed to suffer.

Thorfinn ran his large hands down her back, not shushing her, not speaking, just holding her, comforting her, even as his own tears dripped down his face into his beard. She cried herself hoarse. Her eyes reddened and dry from all the tears. Her throat hurt, a lump still there even as she couldn’t cry anymore. Her breathing evened out, although still came in great shudders every now and then. Still, he held her close. Part of their routine. She cried, he cried, they held each other as their grief overwhelmed them.

Five was a lot, but Hermione knew they would keep trying. Their healers had more ideas, more potions to try. She knew she wasn’t defective, this was all the fault of Bellatrix Lestrange and her cursed knife. But some part of her wondered if maybe this was her punishment. She didn’t come out of the war with clean hands, after all. Maybe this was fate’s way of punishing her for all she had done.

“It’s not your fault,” Thorfinn whispered just before she fell asleep. “It’s not your fault and I love you. No matter what, I love you.”

**_~Fin~_ **


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